


All that Remains

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: All That Remains, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dahl Hawke cares for the Kirkwall gang, often to her own detriment.  After her mother dies, Fenris returns the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All that Remains

Life in Kirkwall continued on even if life in the Amell Estate had ground to a halt. Varric had business with the merchant’s guild, Sebastian had his duties at the Chantry, Anders his clinic, and Isabela did whatever it was Isabela _did_. Merril visited Hawke most often and Fenris often listened to her recount her visit during the early evening as Hawke’s companions commiserated over shared concern with little action.

Fenris didn’t begrudge them this, they all felt Leandra’s loss and it was difficult to know what to do for their grieving friend, a friend who was usually the one caring for them. Each evening he listened to their list of worries, she looked thin and pale, she hadn’t eaten, hadn’t bathed; she sat in the study amidst a pile of discarded letters, attempts to inform Carver of their mother’s _passing_.

Each evening as the conversation turned from worry to distraction Fenris would quietly excuse himself and decide which of the worries to tend to. The first night he brought food, a basket of hard cheese, roasted meat, fruit and bread, a bottle of wine tucked in for good measure. The next he brought Gamlen, threatening him sufficiently to keep his mouth quiet they gathered the discarded letters and he was sent off with instructions to choose the gentlest of them and have it sent.

Other nights Fenris sat with her, each night he brought wine and food, they sat in front of the fire and Fenris would listen to Hawke as she spoke quietly about her family, sometimes she cried, other they would sit in silence and he would listen to her breathing until it slowed as she dozed. He would take her to bed, tuck her in, and sit in the chair near her bed, where he would dozed until he was sure she slept soundly.

But now Hawke needed to rise, her mother’s funeral had been planned for the morning; Varric had approached Gamlen to make the arrangements. He hadn’t pushed the issue of bathing, mourning being what it was he wouldn’t begrudge her a week to wallow in old clothes and dirty hair. The nobles of Kirkwall would not be so understanding. If the Amell heir showed up to her mother’s funeral in week old bedclothes reeking of wine and sweat he doubted they would say _Champion_ with as much reverence as they currently did.

Entering the estate Fenris found Orana and Bodhan and set them to their tasks. With the Dwarf’s help he moved the heavy copper tub into Hawke’s room, leaving Dahl sitting quietly in the study, her mother’s sewing in her lap. Orana was bringing the kettles of water to boiling. While he waited on the water he made his way to the study with the usual basket of food. He laid out cheese, bread and meat, he firmly told her to eat and she nodded, blankly, before mechanically raising the first of it to her mouth.

Satisfied he went back to work, helping Orana and Bodhan to haul the kettles of water to the tub, once full he asked them to change the bedding. He added a small vial of scented oil to the hot water and begin making his way back to the study. Hawke was still sitting in the armchair, the food beside her picked at but mostly uneaten, he gathered her to him and carried her to the tub, noting that both Orana and Bodhan were nowhere to be seen and the bed was fresh and clean.

Hawke didn’t fight when he stood her by the tub and gently began to remove her stale garments, and once striped she let him lift her again and gently lower her into the tub. Her skin pinking in the steaming hot water. Orana had left the soaps and oils Hawke used to care for her hair. Fenris used the wash cloth to wet her hair, carefully directing the water away from her face. He washed her hair, and treated it with the oils that tamed her curls. Hawke relaxed, she reclined in the tub while he combed out a weeks worth of tangles and then carefully braided and pinned her hair.

It wasn’t until he began to gently wash her body that she spoke.

“Am I,” she rasped, voice shaking “Am I to blame?”

Fenris didn’t answer; it was not a conversation he felt qualified to have, not at this moment.

“Fenris,” she took the cloth from him. “Am I to blame for not saving her?” her brown eyes searched his face.

“I could say no, but would that help?”

Her face fell; she looked away and began to wash herself. It had been the wrong thing and he felt a pang of guilt. He stood and began to search her closet for something sombre, appropriate to receive the fake empathy of Kirkwall’s elite. Something Leandra would approve of. His back was to her when he spoke again.

“You are looking for forgiveness, but I am not the one who can give it to you.”

She took the towel from the back of the chair he’d been sitting in and wrapped it around herself before stepping out of the tub. “Then who?”

He shrugged.

“You don’t have anything to say?”

He held out a simple gown of silk with silver threading. “They say death is only a journey.”

She took the gown. “A journey to where?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something people say.” He didn’t know what to say or how to comfort her. He had an arsenal of platitudes learned as a slave, things to comfort, things to threaten. Empty words for empty people. He longed for something genuine to say.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed.

“No, I am,” he sighed. “I am not good at this.”

Hawke was looking through her dresser for her small clothes. She laughed, it was dry and bitter. “That makes two of us. At least you have an excuse, but me? I should be used to this, have something prepared.”

“Hawke.”

“Bethany would have known what to say, Carver probably hit something, but at least they’d do things.”

“Hawke.”

“What have I done? I just sit here, useless, sucking the life from everything. Selfish, like she always said I was.”

“Hawke!” Fenris’ hands were on her shoulders, fingers digging into her bare flesh. Their eyes met in the mirror, tears ran down her face.

She turned to face him. “It’s always me left standing. Dad, Beth, Carver, Mom, it’s always me. My choice, my fault.”

“I don’t know what to say but I am here.” He wiped away a tear with his thumb and kissed her on the forehead.

Hawke was clutching her corset to her chest when he let go and he felt the tips of his ears get hot.

“Should I get Orana to help you dress?”

“W-would you,” she paused. “I mean if it’s not uncomfortable for you, would you mind? I understand if it is, I mean it’s ok if you don’t want to.” She rambled on as he watched her blushing in her towel.

“Of course Hawke.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Dahlia you have spent so much time caring for all of us. I won’t pretend to understand your relationship with your mother but you are not selfish. I will help you and I will stay with you as long,” he paused as the words caught up with him. “As long as you’ll have me.”


End file.
